#tw: sacrifice

[overlord-of-fantasy]

Day 7: Temples & sacrifice

In Numenor Mairon is still mourning his husband. His clothes are inspired by Melkors and he only sacrifices the most beatiful of the faithfull. Mairon wears a black chain vail and doesn´t allow anyone else to speak Melkors name. He shapeshifted to be skinnyer and less intimidating and changed his hair as a sign of mournig.

[k-kizkhalifa]

sorry baby the vessel mask stays on during sex or else i’ll actually use the knife i’m holding and sacrifice you to sleep myself.

[ramonag-if]

…was MC supposed to be a human sacrifice or something?

No 😂 While animal/human sacrifice did occur in ancient religions and still happen for current ones - depending where you are in the world (animal sacrifice of course, the other type would be murder 👀), I'm not including that as part of the religions in-game.

The MC was never meant to die but Salyra had thought things would have turned out much more differently than what actually happened (such as the game events).

[lcgerdemain]

Origins: The Shadow Fiend

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Messing with Voodoo magic stuff really likely won't fix my issue, Nia..." Daniel murmurs sitting sickly within his college apartment, hugging a blanket around his shoulders as he was freezing and shivering. It'd come back after several years of being sick free. His throat felt dry no matter the amount of liquid he drank, his Lungs ached with every breath he took. Daniel should've just ignored his eccentric roommate. When he gets like this, it's only a uphill battle to stay alive, a lethal attempt without high end medical aid in a hospital. He would watch his swahili friend mixing herbs in her mortar and pestle, eyeing it's increasingly goopy texture nervously. "Don't you worry Daniel, I called my father for help. You have somethin' real bad inside you. But once that friend of his gets here from New Orleans, we should be able to help you get through life freer." She reassures him. Though she didn't know much on this man, her father swore by him, trained under him as well. Nia fully understood as well that this may be his last chance of getting help from this sickness.

Daniel coughed, hacking and shaking as he did, feeling frail and wheezing as he felt his ribcage ache as well now from the coughing. his dulled blue eyes with pinkish film over them dragged themselves up to look to Nia. "I should really be going to a hospital instead of waiting for the inevitable..." sweat beaded on his forehead causing his pale white hair to stick to it. "He'll be here any minute, you'll see Danny, we can make you better than ever before." She would reply with her back still turned to him. He would look down at his phone beside him, it was vibrating and showing the name "Uncle Al" on the screen. Then it would end again to show four missed calls and a variety of texts from the same number and a few related numbers. If he waited too much longer they might come bust the door down to the apartment to check in on him. All the way from New York even. Another wrenching cough came to his lips and he covered his mouth again. His thoughts lingered towards the concept of death. The thing he'd been running from for so long. How he could name a few people who wouldn't mind seeing him just stop breathing. Give up. He'd come way too far... fought for every heartbeat and breath he could take each day to get to where he was... he wouldn't give up.

He refused to.

Nia would turn back to him with a wood bowl that she'd poured what he'd deemed to be something along the lines of what some women would use for "facials". "Drink up. It will clear your lungs and throat." She said bringing it forward. Daniel shivered. He could recall many a time when he'd been told to take something with a variety of colors between each substance. Yet, something so... vomit colored he would consider to be among the odder things he'd been made to consume. "If this kills me because you put something in it... I'll haunt you." He grumbles lowly before shakily taking it and knocking it back the best he could, trying to press his tongue down against his bottom jaw to prevent tasting too much of it. It tasted about as well as it looked. Bitter, sour, minty, slightly sweet, spicy, he almost felt like someone stuffed a handful of evergreen bristles into his mouth. His stomach liked it even less. It churned and bubbled, threatening to send it right back up on him. 'No, no keep it down...' Daniel thought willing himself to suppress the urge to heave. After several minutes, it did subside, and some of the ache and horrible tightness did ease some within him. "See? You should do better to listen to me. I know what I'm doing." She beamed at him, while Daniel return her remark with a bit of a glare. He hated her bubbly personality, She was so certain of herself, of the idea she could change the world, change his rather pessimistic views on it all, admirable sure.... but unrealistic. He'd been through too much to believe her now.

Augustin walked with a grin, his hat's brim just covering his gaze as he strode down the street heading towards the complex address his dear acolyte had give him. Such a giving little being to offer up someone else as tribute for more power. A giggle passed through his lips. If the little human was as dilapidated as explained, then it should be simple to take his soul... His acolyte didn't seem to mind the idea of the girl who asked for help being up for grabs either. He pondered this colder northern city. So full and bustling. Yet the soul to it was much different from the warmer southern cities he was used to. His cane clicked the concrete as he pressed forward with each step and each swing of that cane. He could already sense the sickness... third floor... second window over. His green slitted eyes looked up towards it in thought. Best to keep appearances for now and simply take the stairs. Coming to the entrance of the complex, he would reach up one black gloved hand and press the buzzer for apartment 3H. Over the comes his deep thick accented voice would reach Nia who answered from the other end. "Bonjou cheri, I've come to see the ti gason malad~" With a moment's pause, a ring would sound and the door would click unlocked. His grin grew just a little bit wider at the invitation.

Mr. Theriot took only an hour or two of what sounded like conversing with Nia in their native tongue for things to be "set up." Ruined a perfected good living room set up really is all that Daniel felt about it. This was starting to feel more and more like some kinda satanic cult type stuff and his lungs only felt worse in the time it took for them to finish. "This doesn't look safe." He'd comment, being brushed off by Nia for one with her shrug and bouncy hop following after the man as she had been like an absolute golden retriever the entire time. She was too trusting, perhaps too sheltered he felt. "Thank you so much for helping Monsieur Theriot. I admit, I wasn't too sure about this since I don't know my father very well. But you've been so cordial in this matter." Ah, and there it is. Daniel's scowl drew longer. From the first day he'd met her he knew there had to be something, she was entirely too trusting and bubbly and everything to have a really good home life. Sometimes people just are genuinely upbeat people. But other times... you just get this feeling that it isn't real. He hadn't felt it'd been genuine the entire time he'd known her. "Of course cher, now, lets get him on this table here 'n we can begin getting move bagay yo outta him." Mr Theriot replied. That was another thing he didn't like. Not a hello, not a single word in his direction, Nia had spoken his name several times... yet he made no acknowledgment of him as a person. Daniel would press his back further into the seat wincing in pain somewhat as he was still no better than before... He understood he was dying, constantly in fact. Doctors all over New York advising his parents that he wasn't worth the treatment all the time. To just... let go. But he kept fighting back because he wanted to live. Finish college, get a job, live a life he wanted to live. Death will take a back seat no matter how hard it tried to tear him down.

However even he had his limits on what he'd do to combat his sickness.

Augustin would come for him, move to take Daniel by the arm and lift him, only to find him stiff and glaring. "Is there something wrong?" He would ask lightly. "Now you decide it's worth talking to me?" The boy before him growled. Seems he's a little more stubborn than he appeared. "You didn't seem to want to speak, I wouldn't push things I didn't think would be worth the venture." He would reply simply, offering again to help him up, the response of Daniel yanking his arm back proving amusing for the moment to him. "Danny, what's wrong? He's only trying to help." Nia would intervene with a huff, that sweet demeanor of hers, that sweet ignorant demeanor. "You're investing too much trust in someone you don't know." He replied lowly, having about had it with the manners and cordial behavior and seemingly unprovoked helpfulness or at least minimally provoked help. He'd never met a man that was willing to just do something from the bottom of his heart.

While this was all going on, Augustin's patience was beginning to wear thin. The moon's light was almost in the perfect position to reflect onto the circle he'd drawn onto the floor of this disgusting living space of theirs. While thoroughly amused someone here seemed even a little bit tuned into the situation, more so than the level of attentiveness he normally gave most northerners, he couldn't remain amused for long. "Look child, I didn't come up here to simply back out now." He would tell him calmly, finally clasping a hand around his wrist once he caught the nimble thin thing and began to pull him up. But he felt like he was dragging up a very young alligator up from it's freshly made nest with how the boy thrashed in his grip, hissing and demanding his freedom. It didn't matter really the level of defiance this one had. He wanted this soul, these souls. and he was by far the simpler one he could obtain it from he figured. So frail, just the right sort of jostling and he was coughing all over again. It was all too easy too to convince this little lady that he was there to help, to invoke greater powers to help the boy.

It was at this point Nia began to question what was going on. Why was Mr. Theriot getting agitated about his hesitancy. Daniel all the time seemed to be the cause of fights or heated arguments, though after she managed to get him talking, who could blame him? He'd never had anyone talk to, even with the people that did genuinely care. Not to mention here at college he didn't have any of them to fall back on anyway. She'd resolved to be his friend, to help him no matter how angry or verbally rude he got. It was like a scared cornered cat in her school apartment. You just had to give him time. However, he'd never seen him react this violently to someone else like this. Verbal was one thing, but at this moment he was all but clawing at the other's hand on him, panic in his eyes as he was brought to their dinner table that'd been shoved to the center of the living area. She moved to come forward, to intervene, but fear stole over her as Mr. Theriot's eyes darted up to her, as if in warning for her to stay. Those were not the kind eyes she'd looked into before. "Wait, aren't we helping Daniel...?" She'd ask, still trying to steel herself enough to step towards them as the man now nearly through the frailer one onto the table. "Helping is but one word for it, cher." He would reply, snapping his hand back as he'd mistakenly allowed his grip to loosen for just a moment and within it, Daniel wrenching his hand up and biting down ferociously onto it.

In his moment of freedom Daniel attempted to roll off the table and scramble away. Nothing about this was ok. It infuriated him that only now was Nia actually speaking out, that realized something was off. For all her good will and bright personality how stupid could this girl be in "Helping him"? A cackle erupted from the other man as he swung with his other hand and gripped Daniel's shoulder, shoving him back down onto the table flat on his back. His lungs felt squeeze from the rush, a hard cough erupting from him again as he tried to shove the bigger man off, kicking and flailing under his weight. "Now now, there's no need to fight." Mr.Theriot would say as the visage of a reasonable man fell away, with pointed ears and equally pointed teeth. this sharp eyed man was no human to be sure. "Get off me! Get the fuck off!" Daniel wailed kicking again, noting the hand he bit being raised, drops of darker color blood dripping down onto the floor making the circle glow in equal measure to the moonlight that enveloped it. The shadows around the room seemingly growing darker, eyes upon them now as they closed in. Nia, fearful to being touched by one now stepped within the glowing circle. "Reye kalm ti trete mwen an... They hurt much more when you fight." Mr. Theriot replied, holding him firmly in his grasp as a blade was drawn from a pocket within his vest. A bejeweled dagger that eerily felt as dark as the shadows enclosing around them.

Daniel watched in horror as the dagger was raised above him, the man speaking some kind of gibberish that he couldn't understand but it made those shadows dance and begin intruding into the circle, it's light being encompassed by the dark. Giggles and hyena like laughter being heard now around them. "No, No I don't want to die! Stop!" He shrieked giving another hard kick trying to thrash out of his grip. Nia looked to them only now realizing how much she'd messed up in allowing this to happen. This was no ritual to help Daniel. This would kill him! Rushing forward she cried out grabbing onto the man's other arm as it came down, dragging it away from it's intended mark of Daniel's heart, but thrust it forward too far and sliced right through Daniel's neck. "No, no!" She gasped, watching Daniel's eyes go wide and mouth agape in a silent scream, neither able to process what had happened. "Tsk, tsk, if you had just let me do what was intended cher... this wouldn't have been so messy and painful." Mr. Theriot would say, watching now as the opening allowed the shadows to surge forward and inward, Nia scrambling back in horror to the sight. So much darkness digging into him, curling around him like some writhing hungry beast with it's caught prey. "W-What have we done? What have I done?" Nia murmured shaking. This has gone so horribly wrong. She asked for help, why would her father send someone here to hurt him? "It will be the same thing you will find yourself in as soon as I take the soul from the remains. Se jis bisnis li apre tout." He chuckled watching the sight unfold.... But as it went, he noticed something... something wrong about this. This he'd done so many times now, the spirits he calls would devour the shadow first, as they had done here, then the body to leave the soul. It was happening... he could see the glints of the soul peeking through as they went, but in a manner of speaking, they couldn't seem to unravel again from it.

Everything went black, from the moment he felt that slice across his throat the darkness rolling over his sight as he tried to process what occurred. It felt like something wriggled and squeezed around his numbing form, like a snake curled around him and eating at him bit by bit. Is this how it would happen? Is this really how he was going to go? After all the pain and misery and beatings and belittlement... After fighting and screaming and thrashing for every minute of life he could afford? Daniel felt cold, So very cold, and his consciousness lingered on that as he considered it. Letting go. Letting whatever was done to him drag him down finally so he could just sleep. Giggling little voices swirled around him, egging him on. For what? It was obvious he was dead. The voices echoed, "dead, yes dead very dead, hehehe~" His soul quivered within him... or what remained of him. This was terrifying. He can't be dead. Daniel didn't want to die yet. The darkness suddenly felt tense around his form... was it still there? He couldn't tell anymore. It didn't matter. He didn't want to die yet. He refused to die yet. He fought too long and too hard to just sit there and DIE. His lungs didn't hurt anymore but he could feel as if he were taking a deep breath and forced out the loudest angriest scream he'd ever let loose, feeling beginning to return to him vaguely, the ability to move. The voices changed, merged as they squealed but couldn't escape him. They ate him, he knew it now. So he would EAT THEM. They became his voice, echoing in unison with him as he wailed, jerking and writhing on the table. All that darkness, it finally began to clear and give him vision again, the drowning feeling he had from it receding as he grasped at it and dragged it inward with a crazed thought of amusement. Laughter he could hear erupting from his throat as he found the ability to sit up and look to the other two presences beside him. "You tricked us." Daniel's voice growled out, echoing with the shadows that still were dissolving against his reforming body, glowing red eyes staring dead at Mr. Theriot. He grinned at the shocked expression on his face.

Nia stared in horror at this scene. This was her fault. She killed her friend. Her sickly, depressed, pessimistic friend who just needed someone he could genuinely trust. Now look at him. A mass of darkness had all but eaten him up, with the intention of leaving nothing behind. Then it became even worse. The mass squirmed, and shifted, fluctuating as if thrashing upon the table before the visage of the man she knew lurched up against the darkness, letting out a twisted, echoing, maddened scream that sounded nothing of her friend from before. "Bon Gras, kisa ou ban mwen? What is this man?" Mr. Theriot hissed out having come and grabbed her up by her wrist, wrenching her up to force her gaze to him, Nia unable to respond before the sickening echoed voice of Daniel came through to both of them, his body could almost be picked out now within the mass of shadows that slowly seemed to be compressing against him, no... withdrawing would be the better concept. Something unholy occurred within this apartment. Something against that of very creation. Nia felt sick to her stomach watching this monster swing his legs off the table and begin to stand, the lights of the apartment flickering around them as the table cracked while his hands left it.

…… Three Years later….

Daniel Thalis has since been declared dead. But his body had disappeared from the morgue, the mortician speaking madly stating he woke up with all his blood drained and walked out, disappearing… like a shadow.

[in-love-with-writing-whump]

Febuwhump 26: Forced to Choose

Whumpee held their sword in hand, hand shaking as they watched Whumper's hand tighten around D's throat.

"It’s your choice, Whumpee. You can stand by Villain and watch your friends die, starting with your friend here. Or you can surrender, and I'll let them live."

Whumpee stood there, clenching their jaw. They hated Villain just as much as Whumper did, but without them, they would never go home, never see their family again. Their friends would never get to truly live the lives they wanted.

They looked from friend to friend. C struggled to stop A's bleeding, B was too weak to fight, and D would die before they could do anything about it. Caretaker was strong, but that fight could never be won.

If Villain died, the consequences would kill everyone.

Blood dripped to the ground.

Whumpee dropped their sword in the ground. Caretaker swore. Whumper smiled as Whumpee met their gaze.

"I get to say goodbye first. And no matter what, you don't kill any of them."

Whumper dropped D, smiling sadly. "Good choice, Whumpee."

FEBUWHUMP 2023 IS HERE!

the prompts this year were chosen through a suggestion poll and subsequent vote, where over 350 people voted for their favourites. the top 28 make up the core prompts, and a mixture of the next most popular and this blog’s personal favourites have become the alternatives!

i’m so excited to see what you all create with these prompts, and hope they’re inspiring enough to trigger a whole month’s worth of creativity for you! if you have any questions, make sure to check out the blog’s FAQ, or check out the previously asked questions on the blog before sending one of your own!

please note: this year, notifying the blog of completionist status will happen through a google form that will be released closer to the end of febuwhump.

full write-up of prompts and rules under the cut:

Keep reading

[fishcop]

If I had a nickel for every time Scott sacrificed himself for pearl… that would be three, actually!

[pidgydraws]

🩸 And Nothing Else Matters 🩸

part 2 - part 3

[bamsara]

i have so many dream/nightmare related comic scenes I havent posted. anyway hold this real quick

[tsuutarr]

The hero didn’t really think much of you when he first saw you. After all, you're just a pretty little saint that grew up with praise inside the gleaming walls of a church, never knowing any suffering. He doubts you’ll be able to keep up with him during his journey to save the world.

All of his initial disdain for you disappears when he begins his journey with you. You’re funny, you’re kind, you’re generous. Your healing ability from the gods isn’t the only thing that seems to heal him – just your presence, just your laugh, just you. You make life – his journey – a little more bearable.

So how – how could they? You’re his light, you’re his everything, and yet… They want to sacrifice you? That’s why you were chosen to be his partner for his trip? And you’re just standing there, unwilling to fight your fate.

“I’m okay with disappearing,” you murmur, wiping his tears away with hands that are turning to stone. “If I can save your life with my own, then I’m satisfied.”

But he’s not. He’s not satisfied, not when you’re not by his side. When he sees you turn to stone, your skin replaced with beautiful white marble, he vows to do anything to bring you back to his side. 

Using the power of the gods, he turns back time again and again and again so he can save you – so he can be with you.

But you meet the same fate over and over and over again. Again and again and again.

…Then who cares? Who cares about this shitty world when it’s without you?

The next time you return to consciousness, the world is in disarray, covered in murky fog and the smell of blood. The next thing you know, you’re being pulled into a warm embrace.

“You’re alive…” the hero says, hugging you close. His warmth is suffocating. “Yes… I should’ve done this from the start instead of turning back time…”

“W… what’s happening?” you ask, heart feeling too heavy, like stone, in your chest. “What did you do…?”

“Nothing, everything, anything.” He nuzzles your neck, savoring your warmth. It sends chills down your spine. “Anything to have you by my side. Even if it means destroying the world.”

[signourneybooks]

Midnight Kingdom | Book 2 of The Dark Gods | ARC Review

Thank you to Hodder & Stoughton and Netgalley for the review copy in exchange for an honest review. This does not change my opinion in anyway. Book: The Midnight Kingdom (The Dark Gods 2) by Tara SimRelease Date: August 22nd 2023Tags: Fantasy | High Fantasy | Dark Fantasy | Gods | Trigger/Content Warnings: Violence | Murder | Torture | Eye Removal | Sacrifice Other books in this series I…

[the-star-rigel]

pjo/hoo/toa + the cycle

The Lightning Thief / Growing Sideways, Noah Kahan / Ivan the Terrible and His Son Ivan, Ilya Repin + Saturn Devouring His Son, Goya + Saturn, Rubens / The Blood of Olympus / The Family Jewels, MARINA / The Last Olympian / The Sea of Monsters / The Family Jewels / Orestes Pursued by the Furies, Bouguereau / The Hidden Oracle / Apollo and Marsyas, Manfredi / In The Blood, John Mayer / The Sea of Monsters / The Combat of Ares and Athena, Jacques Louis David / The Family Jewels / Mark of Athena / The Combat of Ares and Athena / The Lightning Thief / Family Line, Conan Gray / Cronos and Rhea, Schinkel / The Lightning Thief / The Blood of Olympus / In The Blood / The Last Olympian / Chronos and His Child, Romanelli / Desireé Dellagiacomo / The Lightning Thief / Family Line / The Fallen Angel, Alexandre Cabanel + The Last Day of Pompeii, Bryullov / The Blood of Olympus / The Outcast, Botticelli / Glass, Irony and God, Anna Carson / House of Hades / Family Line / The Last Olympian / The Lament for Icarus, Herbert Draper + Sacrifice of Iphigenia, Roman School + Minerva and Arachne, Houasse + Venus Induces Helen to Fall in Love with Paris, Kauffmann / The Last Olympian / Hadestown / The Lightning Thief / apple, Charli xcx / The Last Olympian / I Would Leave Me If I Could, Halsey / The Sea of Monsters / ? / LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK, Lavery and Corrigan / The Last Olympian / Eat Your Young, Hozier / The Last Olympian / Orpheus and the Bacchantes, Lazzarini / The Blood of Olympus / Susan Smith, wych elm / Orpheus and the Bacchantes / The Burning Maze / ? / The Tyrant’s Tomb / Perseus Freeing Andromeda, Veronese / Abduction of Psyche, Bouguereau + Bacchus and Ariadne, Van Loo / The Tower of Nero / The Tower of Nero / The Tower of Nero

[lotussart]

Sacred

[peterpettigrewproject]

Make it [make sense] Monday

Welcome to a new week, love’s! 

This one’s a little chunky. But it’s an important Peter moment:

TW: violence, mutilation, self mutilation, amputation, sacrifice

Oof, how do you feel? What a chapter, truly. He really did that.

As usual, a reminder on what Make it [make sense] Monday is below the line.

We’re taking things that are true, and exploring them from Peter's point of view.

Each Monday we have a different section of dialogue from the books to use as a prompt for our Take the Tag initiative. 

Use the prompt however you would like. You can create something with it, just discuss it, tell it from Peter’s perspective, or even just… make it make sense. 

Examples of the kinds of works we’re hoping to inspire with these prompts:

- A character study (any creative format): this can be as short as a poem or even just a head canon based on the prompt.

- A drabble: Pretty standard to see 100-500 words for a drabble, but there is technically no maximum WC.

- A dialogue (ie. The kind of short posts you usually see on Tumblr)

- Comic, art, mood board or a video edit.

- Playlist

Don’t forget to tag Peter Pettigrew, Peter Pettigrew Project and Make it Make Sense Monday.

[voltaical-art]

whatever it takes

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Why?"

That one word sent a shock through Danny's system, like he was back in the portal being electrocuted all over again. Still, he knew what was at stake, so even though that look on Tim's face made him want to fall to his knees and explain everything, he knew he couldn't.

Instead, he raised his gun as the portals filling the sky multipled and merged together as the ghost zone tried to absorb their reality. Channeling his inner Dan, he gave Tim a mocking smirk, What? You didn't think all that was real, did you?"

"You...you're lying!"

Danny tilted his head at an angle he knew would look as smug and condescending as possible, and judging by the burst of rage he felt coming from Nightwing a few rooftops over, it worked. "Tim, you know better." He said in Bruce's voice, It was the exact thing Bruce had told them when they were starting thier relationship.

Everyone had disapproved when he had brought his new boyfriend home a few months after meeting at the skatepark. Bruce hated Danny from the get-go, more suspicious of him than he had been with any of the batkids' previous partners.

Danny opened his mouth to mock him more but was quickly cut off by a punch to the face, not by Nightwing, or by Robin, who was still racing towards him at seemingly Mach speeds. Nope. It was Hood, who looked madder than Danny had ever seen him, surprising both Tim and Danny alike.

"You did all of this just to steal our souls and trap us in some weird afterlife dimension as your slaves?!"

Danny had no idea where the slaves thing came from, but it sounds villainous, so Danny's gonna go with it, "Of course!"

[aventurineswife]

HEYYYYYYY if I can may I ask for Aventurine, Sunday and Dan Hang protecting reader when they get badly injured protecting them please ( I’ve been desperate for some angst and comfort recently with them 😭😭 )

“If I Fall, Let It Be for You”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Protectiveness, Sacrifice, Vulnerability, Emotional Conflict, Guilt, Platonic or Romantic Love, Selflessness, Inner Struggles.

Warnings: Graphic injury, Blood, Violence, Desperation, Guilt, Emotional distress, Death-related themes.

A/N: Hope you like this!! 🫣

The battlefield stretched before you, a blur of smoke and chaos. You had acted on instinct—throwing yourself in front of Dan Heng to block a strike meant for him. The blade tore through your side, pain radiating through your body as you stumbled.

“[Name]!” Dan Heng’s voice, usually so calm and composed, cracked as he caught you in his arms. His eyes widened, a rare display of emotion breaking through his stoic mask.

You gave him a weak smile, your hand clutching the bleeding wound. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

His jaw tightened, and his grip on you was firm yet trembling. “You should never have done that.” There was an edge to his voice, sharp and laden with guilt.

You tried to speak, but the pain was overwhelming. Darkness crept at the edges of your vision, and you felt yourself fading.

“Stay with me,” Dan Heng ordered, his voice softer now but no less desperate. He cradled you closer, his usually steady hands pressing against your wound to stem the bleeding. “You can’t leave me. Not like this.”

He carried you swiftly to a safe spot behind the ruins, shielding you from the chaos. His spear, Cloud-Piercer, stood guard nearby, its sharp tip still dripping with the blood of your enemies. Dan Heng tore a strip of fabric from his coat, fashioning a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Why?” he asked quietly, his gaze fixed on your pale face. “Why would you put yourself in harm’s way for me?”

You managed a weak chuckle despite the pain. “Because I care about you, Dan Heng. Even if you keep pushing people away, I won’t stop protecting you.”

His breath hitched, and for a moment, his usual reserve cracked. “I don’t deserve it. Not after everything I’ve done… everything I’ve failed to prevent.”

“You’re wrong,” you whispered, your hand reaching up to brush against his cheek. “You’re worth it to me.”

Dan Heng’s eyes softened, guilt and sorrow mingling with something deeper—something he had tried so hard to suppress. He didn’t speak, but his actions spoke volumes. He leaned into your touch, his fingers brushing your hair as if trying to commit every detail of you to memory.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised, his voice low but resolute. “Not again.”

Dan Heng stayed by your side, his spear within reach, ready to defend you from any further threat. The battle raged on around you, but his focus never wavered. He wasn’t just protecting you now—he was protecting the fragile hope you had given him, the chance for something beyond the weight of his past.

And in his quiet way, Dan Heng vowed to repay the trust you had shown him, no matter the cost.

The echoes of the gunfire still reverberated in the empty corridors, a cruel reminder of the chaos that had just unfolded. Aventurine stood frozen for a moment, the world around him slowing to a crawl. The usually confident smirk plastered on his face had vanished, replaced by a rare expression of raw, unfiltered fear.

You lay crumpled on the ground, your blood pooling beneath you. You had thrown yourself in front of him, a human shield against the sniper's bullet that had been meant for his chest.

“Why?” Aventurine whispered, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you, his gloved hands hesitating before pressing against your wound. His pristine, gold-adorned sleeves soaked in crimson as he tried to stem the bleeding. "You absolute fool. What were you thinking?"

Your eyes fluttered open, a weak smile playing on your lips despite the pain. "Because I knew you'd never let yourself be hit," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're too important... too smart to take risks like that."

Aventurine let out a bitter laugh, one that sounded more like a sob. "And yet here you are, bleeding out because of me," he muttered, his tone laced with guilt and frustration. "You're supposed to stay out of the crossfire, not throw yourself into it like some kind of martyr."

The mask he wore so effortlessly in high-stakes games and political negotiations shattered in that moment. He was no longer the composed strategist, the man who always had a plan. He was just Kakavasha—terrified, helpless, and desperate to keep you alive.

“Stay with me,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he pulled out his communicator and barked orders for immediate medical assistance. “You don’t get to leave like this. Not here, not now.”

Your hand weakly reached up, brushing against his cheek. "I trust you, Aventurine," you whispered, your voice faltering. "You'll fix this... you always do."

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m a gambler, not a miracle worker," he admitted softly, his usual bravado nowhere to be found. "But if there’s one thing I never bet against... it’s you."

The minutes felt like hours as he stayed by your side, murmuring reassurances that neither of you believed. His mind raced, calculating odds and outcomes, but none of his usual strategies could guarantee your survival. For the first time in years, Aventurine felt powerless.

When the medics finally arrived, he refused to leave your side, riding with you to the emergency unit despite their protests. As the doors closed behind them and the sterile lights flickered above, Aventurine made a silent vow.

No matter the cost, he would ensure you lived to see another gamble, another day by his side. Because without you, even victory would feel like defeat.

The clash of blades and the sound of explosions filled the air, but Sunday’s focus was solely on you. The two of you had been ambushed, and though he had held his ground, one stray attacker had slipped through his defenses, aiming for his unprotected flank.

You hadn’t hesitated. You’d stepped in without thinking, intercepting the blow meant for him. Now, you lay slumped against a ruined wall, clutching your side as blood seeped through your fingers.

“Why... why would you do that?” Sunday asked, his voice trembling as he knelt beside you. His eyes, usually so calm and composed, were wide with panic. He pressed his hands over yours, trying to stop the bleeding. The glow of his halo seemed dimmer, as if it mirrored the dread coursing through him.

“You needed protecting,” you gasped, a weak smile crossing your lips. “That’s what friends do, right?”

“Foolish,” Sunday whispered, his tone a mixture of frustration and anguish. "I am the one who should be protecting you." He gently brushed a strand of hair from your face, his gloved hands trembling. “You shouldn’t have to suffer because of me.”

Your hand reached for his, squeezing weakly. "You’re worth it."

Sunday’s breath hitched, and for a moment, his dignified mask crumbled. "No one is worth losing you," he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not even me.”

The world around the two of you seemed to fade away as Sunday focused solely on keeping you conscious. He whispered soft reassurances, his usually formal tone replaced with a raw, desperate plea. “Stay with me,” he urged. “I’ll fix this. I swear it.”

Using his limited healing abilities, Sunday poured his energy into stabilizing you. The effort left him visibly drained, his face pale and his breaths labored, but he refused to stop. "I’ve seen too much suffering," he murmured, more to himself than to you. "I won’t allow it to claim you."

As reinforcements arrived and medical aid was administered, Sunday stood by your side, his presence a steady anchor amidst the chaos. When you were finally safe, he let out a shaky breath, brushing his thumb across your knuckles.

"You risked yourself for me," he said quietly, his eyes softening. “But know this: I will never allow you to come to harm again. You are too precious to lose.”

In that moment, you saw a side of Sunday he rarely revealed—a man burdened by the weight of his ideals, yet willing to fight against them for the sake of someone he cherished.